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User blog:KateStrange/Desert Dreamtime (Cinder Man Part 1)
Gorgoroth, Enrique, and I are sitting in the Boar & Thistle discussing the third scroll of Fahz Murb when Alejandra stops by our table. She has a serious expression on her face, and I wonder if it has something to do with her melancholy mood since Yule. Whatever it is, Colonel Boyd is involved. Perhaps something to do with the military. Briefing in the Guild Hall. Noemia and Leao are guarding the meeting room entrance, and I feel increasingly apprehensive. Good things are rarely said behind closed doors. The room is full of maps, and pictures of men on fire. I recognize one sketch, with a clear view of the night sky. Dr. Haiduc showed it to me before Yule, wanting my opinion on the constellations. Then Alejandra slowly, haltingly, assisted by Colonel Boyd, explains why these images are important, who the grim man pictured next to the the big map is. Enicio Vargas. The name is familiar from past divinations. I remember what Leao said, that the man who killed his brother had been unpunished. But I had not guessed that this man would still be in the army, a major no less, or that Alejandra had fought beside him. And of course Alejandra doesn't want us to fight Vargas. She's worried for our safety. But I think I agree with Enrique when he says “If Vargas tries to fight us, he will die.” Boyd says the army wants him reined in. Sounds like they've realized they have a mad dog on their hands, and worse, he's slipped off their leash while they weren't looking. I suspect she's trying to avoid the temptation of vengeance, but I can't help but offer to keep a curse or two ready. I've never wanted this badly to see someone starve for two weeks, while everything they eat turns to ashes in their mouth. Or better yet, we could turn him into a horned toad and carry him back into Willowdale in a belt pouch. Alejandra leaves the room to talk to Noemia. I don't want to interrupt or to eavesdrop, but I need Noemia to look after Zuni while we're gone, so I follow. “Of course, Mestre,” Noemia says. “What does she eat? How often do I walk her?” I try to explain, and then tell Zuni that she must defend Noemia until I get back. That clear instruction should be strong enough to keep her from pining away for me at the Gate for as long as this takes. I carefully instruct Noemia not to pick any fights while we're away. Gentle as Zuni usually is, she won't hesitate to attack if she thinks Noemia is threatened, and her tossing trick could be very dangerous if used on any of the citizenry. We teleport into the desert. I don't think I'll ever get used to teleportation, the abrupt shift from one landscape into another. The change from snowy Willowdale to this expanse of sand is particularly jarring. We've landed some distance from the Pyramids we were aiming for, and must walk. That's fine. I need a chance to get a feel for this land. Once I do, travel becomes a little easier. Not a lot easier, but enough that my mind begins to wander. It occurs to me that Vargas was Julio's commanding officer, which is not the same thing as a mestre, but isn't terribly different, either. And soldiers in a company must share something like what Pathfinders out in the wild have. I think of Noemia, the way she jumps to meet any challenge and takes a mild suggestion as a strict order. I can see with painful certainty how a brother of hers might follow without hesitation the instructions of an authority figure, even if they lead to death. It is almost a relief when the Purple Worm bursts out of the sand, interrupting my unpleasant thoughts, at least until I realize exactly how big the worm is. And then it lunges forwards and grabs Alejandra. She slowly bends under the force of its jaws and collapses into its gaping mouth. It occurs to me as I throw a burst of fire at the worm that she can't punch her way out of its gullet. Does she even carry a knife? A raptor could tear its way out pretty quickly, if I could get in there. It's got Gorgoroth now – and he tosses a handful of fire beads into its mouth. It topples over, and Alejandra crawls out. After I clear the poison from her system, she remarks that Vargas will try to harvest that venom if he finds the corpse. We decide to remove and destroy the glands. I refuse her offer of help in extracting them. I won't be hurt by a spray of venom if a knife slips, but she and Ballantino aren't immune. The glands come free without incident. We leave them to spoil in the sun, and leave the rest of the corpse to the vultures. When we reach the pyramid of Anankis, Alejandra points out a sphinx at the top. We all climb after her. I try to look both dignified and nonthreatening as they talk. The conversation sounds friendly enough, though I can't understand a word. We march on then to a statue in the sands, where Alejandra stops to meditate. Once camp is set, I sit down by Ballantino, because I have to ask. “How is it that after you entrusted your son to this man, and he sent him to die, you can trust me with your daughter?” He tries to explain the difference between the individual trust that his family feels for me, and the trust that they have in the institution of the military. He explains that the military is like a family, especially for Alejandra, who had no other. I listen, and then sit and try to understand. The problem is, I can't reconcile the army's perhaps necessary tendency to sacrifice its soldiers with the strong protective drive of family which is entirely self-sacrificial. Like my cousin Etar who lost an arm wrestling his brother away from an ankheg. Or for that matter like Alejandra holding onto the Third while he threw a fireball in her face, so he couldn't visit worse damage upon the rest of us. Yes, I can imagine that she would treat the military as a family, but it seems they haven't extended her the same courtesy. Perhaps it is more like the Druidic orders, united by a cause rather than by blood or personal history. We share a similar sense of trust and community. But druids as a rule don't take orders well. Even Arch-Druids only advise and coordinate. I try to visualize, not a family, exactly, but a sort of extended Gesh, linked indirectly through threads of common interest and one-step-removed personal connections. A city that cares for its orphans. A herd that can stand to lose the individual member as long as the whole survives. That isn't right. The herd may lose sometimes the weak, the slow, the unlucky, but it does not simply throw its children to the wolves. Still, this line of thinking is better than the others. Would I be able to send my brother to his death, if I did not know him as an individual? Could I sacrifice him if it meant saving my cousins? It's a good thing I am a druid. I would make a horrible soldier. Movement catches my eye as Alejandra stands. The statue is gone. On Alejandra's forehead, a scarab glints in the firelight. Enrique presses. “What just happened here? Don't you think it's strange that a statue disappeared?” Alejandra hesitates, so I try to convince Enrique to give her space. “A disappearing statue isn't the strangest thing we've seen out here,” I say. Normally I might be curious, but part of me is still dwelling on my family dying. Alejandra answers anyway. “I am turning into living stone.” Well. I think I need to sleep on that. I dream that I am sitting in the Boar & Thistle. The inn is organized as a military headquarters, like it was during the Battle of Willowdale. A scimitar lies on the table before me, and from the metallic tang in the air I can tell it has been freshly sharpened. Noemia sits in front of me. We are going to Ravenswood, I tell her, to rescue the druids from the Necromancer. My war-medal grows heavy on my chest. We are approaching the stone circle, Noemia and I. The summoning symbols flash to life, but instead of a trio of Bodak, the Necromancer is standing there, eyes full of colours but empty of life or mercy. He glances at me, and I freeze in place. Noemia tries to punch him. (These Rogaceu women, they will punch anything, even twice their size and covered in spiked armour.) He looks at her. First her sandstone hands start to crack and crumble. The cracks spread up her arms and across her body until she falls into tiny pieces, and there is nothing left of her but a small pile of rubble with a rainbow-coloured scarf on top. The Necromancer takes off his helmet. He has Creta's face. “You gave us up, Jura,” he says. “You sacrificed us for this. This is what happens when you leave your herd.” Alejandra is sitting at a table in one of the stone houses of Avenida. A man in military garb hands her a rainbow-coloured scarf. She flies into a rage. She, Ballantino, and Leao are standing in the Willowdale Memorial. Where the statue of Justice and Valour is supposed to be stands a wall covered in names, the same red sandstone as Noemia's fists. My dreams did not turn against me even when the Necromancer sent his nightmares to Willowdale. So why now? Category:Blog posts Category:Reflection